Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1605, Chapter 1601: The Lunar War (117)

Amun remained silent as the emperor explained the most crucial battle of the Attilan campaign.

Is this happening in the etheric world, or inside my brain?

Is this important? Dreams are a bridge connecting the material universe and the ethereal dimension. When primitive shamans drank mushroom soup with hallucinogenic ingredients and, in a trance, witnessed miracles and conveyed the future to the tribal chief, the shaman's dreams, and even the shaman himself, were a bridge. Of all the schools of magic throughout history, those related to dreams and the soul are always the most profound, elusive, and mysterious, because dreams and the soul point directly to the origin of magic, a madness and chaos beyond the comprehension of intelligent beings. This world is the fulcrum through which we influence the material universe, but those deep within the veil share the same thoughts.

The wise man, clad in a deep red robe, stood side by side with Amon. Molten steel boiled beneath their feet on the deck, the scorching heat causing the power armor's detection systems to go into overdrive. A blinding white light, a reddish glow, filled the tactical scope, obscuring the entire space. Every wisp of air was heated, thick with the smell of hot metal.

Neither Catherine nor Constantine, neither Maximus nor Black Bolt seemed to see the Emperor or Amon. There were many corpses here. The alloy ceiling was torn open by the shockwaves, molten iron surged and splashed like waves, crashing against the central giant plasma reactor shell, gnawing irregular scorch marks on the flesh clinging to it. Countless energy lines and pipes were snapped, sparks and steam erupting, many corpses or fragments falling through the sloping cracks, shattering, and then being scorched by the scalding floor. Through the thick smoke rising from the burning human fat, the wise man calmly turned his palm, as if grasping an invisible key.

The colossal monster that had just charged past him was now retracing its path, the shattered, rusted supports reforming as if time had reversed, a new surface flashing by in an instant. Amon saw the wise man's worried frown, and the movements of the blurry, golden-armored guard seemed to rewind with his movements, like a video clip playing in reverse. The wise man released his grip, and the world began to spin rapidly like a wound-up toy. The colossal monster, once known as Maximus, did not charge past them, but the guard did not thrust out his lance as before, like a bullfighter brandishing a short spear; instead, he fired directly at close range, shattering Maximus's thick ribs that made up his armor.

Then the world turned upside down again.

This process was repeated thousands of times, until the final image froze: the Guard's spear pierced Maximus's muscular, bull-like neck with pinpoint accuracy, severing the aneurysm twisted into varicose veins, and black, crude-like blood gushed out. Amon remained focused, calculating the variables generated by each thrust of the spear and the cumulative effect of these variables. The wise man reached out again, as if a century's tedious journey were but a blink of an eye. He tirelessly turned the invisible spring key once more. The spear pierced Maximus's neck was pulled out; the spear slid down, severing his collarbone, as if every movement required calculation until a perfectly calculated final answer was reached.

Constantine was certain that he had witnessed this scene countless times.

The Royal Guard's memories never fade. It's not hyperthymesia, a brain disorder that blurs the lines between past and present; rather, it's a function of an extremely advanced brain, honed through genetic alchemy. Even if a memory only appears in a dream, he will remember every detail of any fragment the Emperor deems necessary. He was certain the monster once known as Maximus would brush past him, its scales leaving a slight dent in his power armor. If he thrust the spear given to him by the Emperor backward, he could pierce Maximus's carotid artery network; and with another turn, the disintegrating force field and the spear's blade could easily sever Maximus's collarbone.

That's exactly what he did; a jet of black blood splattered into the air.

"Continue, monster."

The Commander of the Royal Guard took a step back, dodging the razor-slicing claws. The gyroscope in his power armor and the semicircular canals of his internal second system allowed Constantine to maintain balance and stability even under extreme conditions. He moved with the agility of a balance beam gymnast, and every attack from Black Bolt missed its mark. The Commander swung the end of his spear backhand, slamming it into Black Bolt's hyena-like muzzle. Several mutated canines turned to dust, and the intense pain caused the latter to stagger a few steps before lunging forward.

His astonishing dynamic vision caught a blast of explosives tearing through the air as it flew past, and he reacted instantly. A spray of blood erupted from Black Bolt's shoulder as it staggered toward the Commander of the Royal Guard, but without its previous ferocity. Without hesitation, without even a moment's pause, Constantine immediately spun his spear, the blade precisely slicing through Black Bolt's rapidly contracting throat, a faint sonic boom spurting out along with the blood.

Taking advantage of the moment, the Commander of the Guards stomped his heavy boots on Black Bolt's bent knees. With lightning speed, he reached out and grabbed the latter's forehead, smashing Black Bolt's jawbone with the kneeplate embroidered with a roaring human face. Simultaneously, he plunged his spear into Black Bolt's thigh and fired a shot. In the blink of an eye, Black Bolt lay on the ground, bleeding profusely. Maximus, now completely irrational and transformed into a beast, roared in fury at the sight. The crimson flames below illuminated the golden armor, making it gleam and scorch, while a hot wind rose from below, causing Constantine's robes to flutter wildly.

"You're going to die here today, I'm sure of it."

He opened his eyes, and the tactical scope locked onto Diana, who was carrying a tray up the steps.

When he closed his eyes and entered the dream, Diana had only just lifted her foot.

"This is just a fleeting moment; there's no direct correspondence between dreams and the linear time of the material universe." Amon paused, and at the Emperor's instruction, a member of the Imperial Guard picked up a wine glass from the tray. "The shortest battle in the dream lasted 10 minutes, 46 seconds, and 28 milliseconds in Earth's standard time. After numerous observations and assessments, I believe this time can be further shortened, provided the commander possesses the same observational experience as me and is also a standard-trained member of the Imperial Guard. The commander's abilities are equivalent to thousands of observations; if he has also experienced the same dream, then this time can be further shortened, I have no doubt about that. But I still cannot be certain whether what I saw was the scene of the commander's battle, and I don't understand why you wanted me to enter your dream to explain all this to me."

"Because you need to understand another dimension, Amon, this is your task."

Amon looked at Diana.

This android is not merely a personal assistant, but a high-ranking officer, like the Commander of the Royal Guard, who oversees many of the Emperor's secrets. Without Dinah, the Royal Guard's security system, including provisions for food safety and daily necessities, would not have been able to function smoothly. "Currently, over half of the armed forces and logistical supplies belonging to the First Army, the Royal Guard, the Sisters of the Cult, and the auxiliary forces are on the Moon, with only a small portion still in orbit awaiting transport. If you intend to attack Kamar-Taj, you must consider our current military strength and diplomatic influence, as well as the risk of Kamar-Taj being exposed. We cannot use an armed force with the significantly stronger defense capabilities of the Yugoslav Federation to attack Kamar-Taj, located in the Indian subcontinent and the Tibetan Plateau; we must wait until the portion not used in the Attilan campaign is returned to Earth by the shuttle."

"I only need to bring a few people with me. Please bring me my shield... I really don't see it."

"My lord, what are you saying...?"

Diana wanted to ask something more, but the ornate Venetian full-length mirror, now used as decoration in the foyer, suddenly shattered. Tiny shards of mirror fragments caved into the lining, disappearing into a bottomless black hole. The woman who emerged from the hole made Diana swallow her words. She bowed respectfully, but Amon had already pointed the spear and the muzzle of his gun at the woman in black leather—few people possessed the key to the castle's teleportation. The psychic slaves' 24-hour dream manipulation beneath the castle also protected it from detection and analysis by prophetic spells. Moreover, the Emperor himself, as the designer and controller of the psychic protective array, was someone very few in the world could forcefully dismantle the defenses and teleport to the castle through the mirror. Now the castle's defenses were weak, and the Royal Guard was on edge until the Emperor allowed them to lower their guard.

"It's her. Don't worry, Amon."

"I have never trusted witches. I have read some of their files, and they are far too dangerous for you to diminish. Your relationship with them does nothing to reduce their danger."

"I can hear you, toy soldier." Bayonetta raised an eyebrow and adjusted her glasses with the muzzle of her gun. After a few more seconds, she frowned impatiently. "Are you going to stand on these steps and talk to me, darling?"

"I don't think a witch should be involved in this."

"Don't forget the help the Sorcerer Supreme gave you, ████, especially since this matter concerns the safety of the Earth."

The Emperor fell silent, his brow furrowed as he stared intently at Bayonetta and the white-haired witch who then emerged from the mirror. Clad in battle suits and wielding weapons, they appeared both tall and fierce, exuding their usual unrestrained, alluring charm. "Athena told you this? Yes, only she could have concealed the course of fate from me, covering your arrival here." The Emperor leaned on his holy sword, stroking its magnificent hilt. This sword had been with him for a long time; its first target in his hands was an avatar of a god, a testament to its worth. "I will tell you, I will not forget the Sorcerer Supreme's help. I consider him family, but I will also not forget his ideals. I will never forget the day I received this sword, for it was from that day that I truly understood my mission, understood who I am. There are always things in this world more important than life itself. Bayonetta, Joan of Arc, now you should return to that island. I have other plans for you."

"Would you brandish a weapon at us?"

The emperor raised his eyes. "Yes."

A bright blue light illuminated the face of Priestess Ferrier, who, clad in red robes, nimbly descended the rusted deck stairs. In the dim passageway, this bright blue light, along with rows of burning torches, became the last hope for this group of mutants on the lower decks. However, Priestess Ferrier's heart was not as at ease as she appeared. She had led this group of mutant followers with deformed limbs such as horns, scales, and feathers for a long time, and even a sudden earthquake had not interrupted their pilgrimage. Yet, Priestess Ferrier had seen the same scene appear before her more than once—at first, she could convince herself with the design of Star Castle, but as the environment grew darker as they went deeper, her heart began to waver slightly, even though it was a divine message she had heard from the gods in the spirit world—she seemed to hear a harsh mocking voice in her ear, but when she listened carefully, she found it was merely the noise from the rusted deck stairs.

"Keep going, we're very close to the Gates of Heaven."

She turned and encouraged her followers with the same words she had repeated no less than ten times. The response she received was as fervent as ever, which gave her a sense of relief. However, she also heard whispers among the mutant ranks. Some mutants were complaining that the soles of their feet (hooves, etc.) were cut by the rusty edges of the deck, and worse, some were beginning to doubt whether they had ever walked this path before. This area had been forbidden in the past; even scavenging mutants wouldn't return to this barren place.

"The messengers of God have been waiting for us at the gates of Heaven for a long time. Quicken your pace, believers of the gods, for sweet water and abundant food await us at the end. That will be the reward the gods give to our devout faith. You are all disciples who believe in the goodness of the universal truth. When we arrive there, we will enjoy the blessings of the gods forever."

(End of this chapter)